Ten Things Jehan Knows About Montparnasse
by Epeolatry
Summary: Set in the Sexual Revolutions verse


1. His Nimble Fingers Are Good For More Than Petty Larceny

They are useful for holding open the delicate leaves of old books, for knotting silk scarves and ties and bindings, for plucking cigarettes from half empty cartons and glossy pink lips, for leaving bruises on flesh and pressing their way insistently into mouths and other places, and for gently combing through fair hair soaked in sweat. Jehan has never been one to adulate one specific body part above all others, but he thinks that he could happily write a thousand verses about those long, talented fingers, and some of them wouldn't even be dirty.

2. He May Be On Top, But He's Not In Charge

People often assume that sweet, slim little Jehan with his fair hair, his flowers, and his poetry is taken advantage of by his tall, domineering boyfriend, all sharp cheekbones, lean muscle, and out-for-himself attitude. What no one ever suspects is that Jehan is the demanding one in bed, pleading for Montparnasse's attention, begging for his touch, crying out for his cock. Montparnasse might be the one on top, but it is Jehan who issues the demands. Jehan knows that his boyfriend would like to have the poet open _him_ up sometimes, fuck him raw and leave the marks of their love-making red and purple across his skin and white down the backs of his pale thighs, but Jehan also knows that Montparnasse likes better than anything to make his poet happy, and Jehan is never happier than when he is keening the dandy's name, with his knees aching and hot sweat shining on his svelte frame. Montparnasse is _always_ on top but only because Jehan demands it. And when Jehan demands to be fucked, Montparnasse can do nothing but obey.

3. He Has a Lot of Stuff

Montparnasse is a materialist of the highest degree. A proudly metrosexual pro-capitalist mascot of the consumer generation. He has enough designer clothing to open his own department store Jehan thinks, and Jehan is certainly not one who could be considered restrained when it comes to buying procuring pretty things. But Montparnasse's wardrobe bypasses 'extensive' entirely and veers joyfully into 'excessive'. He lives by himself and so much the better; his spare bedroom has been essentially converted into a walk-in wardrobe. And it isn't just expensive clothes and shoes that Montparnasse covets, no, he has just about the best of everything; shelves full of beautiful leather-bound books that Combeferre would give his right hand for an hour alone with; antique furniture, some of the pieces so old and exquisite they make Jehan want to cry tears of joy; artworks by talented by obscure painters, sculptors, and woodcutters that Grantaire stubbornly pretends to have no interest in; a kitchen full of the latest shiny gadgets despite the fact that Montparnasse never cooks ("Only the hearts of my enemies," he jokes with a wolfish grin that makes Jehan feel just a tiny bit uncomfortable); a fifty-two inch flat-screen TV that Bahorel has demanded be willed to him in the ("extremely likely") event of Montparnasse's early death; not one, but _two_ of the latest iphones ("It's just for _work_ darling, so I don't have to mix business with pleasure"); and of course his pride and joy, a T100 Triumph Bonneville motorbike. Montparnasse certainly has a lot of nice things and he happily basks in these material luxuries, but he is also able to distance himself from the clutter of his life and disappear whenever necessary. It reminds Jehan of a line from one of his favourite movies, '_You never know when you may have to jam'_. Sometimes he doesn't see or hear from Montparnasse for days at a time, and it doesn't _worry_ him exactly because that's just the way Montparnasse has always been, but it does intrigue him. Sometimes he wonders what would happen to all of Montparnasse's beautiful things if the dandy ever disappeared for good. He tries not to admit that he counts himself as one of Montparnasse's beautiful things.

4. He's Hell For Leather

Jehan prefers silks and florals, but when Montparnasse gets that gleam in his eye there's very little the poet can do other than bend over, allow the belt to snap his wrists tightly together in the small of his back, and gladly take whatever his boyfriend is in the mood to give him. Once, Montparnasse had roared into Jehan's street on his bike, parked half on the road and half across the footpath, thrown open the front door and grabbed Jehan by the hair before pushing him roughly to his hands and knees on the kitchen floor. Montparnasse had fucked him mercilessly while wearing his leather jacket and nothing else; the dandy had apologised afterward for his harshness as they lay together on the linoleum flooring, both spent, but Jehan has never yet admitted aloud that the smell of sweaty leather now gets under his skin like nothing else, and whenever Montparnasse wears that particular jacket the poet squirms uncomfortably against his arousal.

5. He's Done a Lot of Bad Things

Enough that a far off police siren is sufficient to make him melt away into the nearest dark alley. Jehan is not unknown to the local police himself – one of the hazards of being a friend of Enjolras – but he suspects that his two arrests, four dropped charges, and one night spent in the cells would pale in comparison to Montparnasse's rap sheet. But Jehan never asks, because he is a person who lives for the present, who looks to the future, and who forgives the past. And if he's being completely honest with himself he's also a little bit frightened of what he might unearth if he digs too deeply into Montparnasse's past.

6. He is Much Cleverer Than People Assume

Montparnasse is self-taught like Feuilly, interested in everything like Combeferre, tenacious and meticulous in his learning like Enjolras, and whip smart even when intoxicated like Grantaire. Jehan recites poetry to him and Montparnasse repeats it back by heart after only one hearing. He is silver-tongued and devastating in arguments, whereas Jehan becomes too emotionally invested and ends up crying and screaming and losing his point. These are the times when Montparnasse systematically tears his boyfriend apart with a cool, level head and unimpeachable reasoning, flaying Jehan with words and wisdom until the poet dissolves into his arms and Montparnasse rocks him gently, cajoling and calming, the steel in his silver tongue turned to softness.

7. He is Difficult to Live With

Sometimes, when Jehan has filled the flat with too many flowers and Joly has decamped, sneezing, to the shared house where the rest of their student friends live, Montparnasse will stay the night. He is fussy about his food and his clothes, he keeps strange hours, hogs the bathroom, refuses to turn off his phone(s), rarely bothers to tidy up after himself, and has no respect for Joly's no smoking in the house policy. But Jehan thinks it's worth it for the rare mornings when Montparnasse does not sneak out at 4 am (leaving only the barest scent of cologne and cigarette smoke behind him), those blissful, lazy days when Jehan wakes up with the sun in his eyes, rolls over, and sees a pale, pointed shoulder blade sticking up from beneath his floral bed covers. Those are the mornings when Jehan smiles bright enough to rival the sunrise as he drags a strong, lean arm across his chest and feels Montparnasse pull him into a sleepy embrace. They doze like that until something stirs between them, then they kiss, Jehan's lips light and loving, caressing, where Montparnasse's are at once lazy and hungry, like a predator. Neither one cares about their messy hair or bad breath. Sometimes they fuck, sometimes they don't, but they _always_ shower together because Jehan prefers the scent of soap and shampoo to sweat, and because Montparnasse is metrosexual to an extent that impresses even the effeminate poet. Then Jehan will make strong black coffee and Montparnasse will light a cigarette next to the kitchen window, blowing smoke rings out into the morning air. Once he is suitably revived by hot coffee and at least three cigarettes, Montparnasse will lean down to Jehan and murmur, "Goodbye, little bird," and Jehan will reach up and lightly kiss Montparnasse's freshly shaven cheek, before the dandy disappears into the sunlight.

8. He is Out and Proud

Montparnasse lost his virginity to Éponine when he was fourteen (and vice versa, as far as Jehan knows), but his first kiss was with a boy whose nose he later broke for outing him to Éponine's formidable father a few years later. Luckily, the man had been in a rare good mood and had merely cussed cheerfully, insulted his daughter's looks and sexual prowess, and told Montparnasse that ,"You're only a fag if you're the one taking it". Montparnasse neglected to tell him that he _had_ been the one taking it a number of times, and quite enjoyed himself thank you very much. Jehan felt very glad that he had never encountered Éponine's father, because any man who could bully arch and outspoken Montparnasse into shyness about his sexuality was clearly not the sort of man that Jehan wanted anything to do with.

9. He Has Magpie-Like Tendencies

Whenever Montparnasse makes the long round trip to the only shop in the city that stocks his Sobranie blacks, he always picks up a carton of cocktails for Jehan. He visits the literature student on campus during Jehan's free periods (despite being warned repeatedly by wary staff members that as a non-student he could be arrested for trespass) to bring the poet little gifts, like a bird or a cat trying to buy its mate, only Jehan knows that no money is ever exchanged for these goods. Montparnasse brings flowers, sweets and candied fruits, brightly patterned notebooks, pretty clothing, bottles of alcohol and perfume in all shapes and sizes, hair ribbons… _Found, collected, picked up_, these are Montparnasse's words for the providence of these trinkets, and Jehan knows better than to ask for further details.

10. He Leads Somewhat of a Double Life

Montparnasse is certainly a drug dealer. He is almost definitely a carjacker, and probably some sort of prince of thieves. He always carries a knife (the switch is his favourite for when they go out all night, but the Swiss army knife will do for a casual date, Jehan knows these little things), and always seems to know when and where there's going to be a fight, organised or not, and regardless of whether or not Bahorel is involved. When those long, clever fingers fly across the screen of his second ('_work'_) phone his face takes on an impassive expression, every feature completely still and neutral, and when he looks like this Jehan can't read him at all, which is irritating because Jehan prides himself on being able to read people. Jehan remembers a maxim he once heard – _never trust a man with two phones_ – and sighs theatrically until Montparnasse chuckles and asks, "What's the matter, little one?" his dark eyes still lit by the glow of the phone's screen.

"Pay attention to me," Jehan huffs, well aware of how petulant he sounds but tired of coming second to Montparnasse's '_work'_.

"You have my undivided attention, my sweet," Montparnasse says casually through his neutral mask, fingers continuing to skitter over his phone.

"You clearly don't understand the meaning of that phrase," huffs Jehan again.

"Don't I?" asks Montparnasse, his eyes snapping to Jehan with a look of such dark intensity that the poet almost shivers, "_Undivided_: whole, complete, entire, unbroken, concentrated, fixed, total…"

Jehan loves that look. It is dark and fierce and full of either a promise or a threat, Jehan can't quite tell which and he thinks that maybe they're one and the same when it comes to Montparnasse. He loves that clever mouth, lips curving slickly around every word, tongue rolling each syllable like an obscenity, making the recitation sound like some sort of thesaurus erotica. Jehan _does_ shiver as Montparnasse locks his phone with a practised motion that the poet doesn't follow (never follows; is never permitted to follow), puts it aside, and approaches the little poet slowly, predatorially, continuing his recitation ("…unadulterated, deliberate, exclusive…") until they are pressed chest to chest.

Jehan is breathing shallowly as he looks up at Montparnasse, dark eyes locking tight onto light ones and never wavering in their intensity. Jehan likes Montparnasse like this, likes to think about what else those burning eyes have seen, have looked down on… What condemnations have those smirking lips pronounced? That clever mouth that whispers words of love and leaves possessive marks on freckled skin, does it curve into a cold smile every time a law is broken? Or a kneecap? Or does it retain the thin, impassive line of his '_work'_ face? Jehan wonders these things though he knows he shouldn't, and gets a little turned on by them anyway. Montparnasse is mysterious, romantic, intriguing, and Jehan knows just how much it means when the dandy puts down his phone to pay attention to the poet when usually he would threaten to gut anyone who tried to interfere with his '_work'_. Montparnasse brushes his thumb lightly over Jehan's lower lip, smirking brilliantly as he murmurs, "_Attention_: concentration, absorption, regard, mindfulness…" then he pushes the digit slowly into the poet's mouth whispering, "The question is, do _I_ have _your_ attention, little bird?" And he does, entirely, for the rest of the night.


End file.
